Let It Be
by Purrr
Summary: It's a few years after the war, and Hermione is obsessing about Draco and his kisses. Draco is being stalked and hires Ginny to help him, while Ginny keeps an eye on Harry. A twist, a crazy love, and a mystery that involves them all...D&G, D&H, H
1. Disgust

Disclaimer/Homage: Rowling is the Queen, I am only the aspiring Princess. Long live the Queen! (At least until the seventh book comes out; then she can die. But not before then.)

A/N: Sorry guys; this little story came from a plot bunny that interfered with the writing of Vendetta so much that I had to kill it before I could do anything else. There are only a few chapters left to post and I've already written them; so it's finished business. Please review! (You don't even have to read it, you could just review. I'm that desperate.)

&&&

_ How is she?"_

"_Well...There are still a few scrapes from her fall, and stiffness from the coma. But nothing serious." _

_Pause._

"_Brain damage?"_

_Violently: "No." _

"_Are you sure?"_

"_She's fine."_

"_But did you get it checked?"_

"_Extra strain right now could cause another breakdown; it would be insane to risk it. I'm taking care of her; she'll be fine. Just let it be."_

&&&

Hermione saw his blond head approaching from a ways off. A moment before he passed, she threw out her wand arm.

All his taunts, the names, the "you're a piece of shit" glances, rose to the front of her mind. He met her gaze and read her small smile correctly.

"Where do you think you're going, Malfoy?" A little taunting in return, now that she was in power.

"Out."

"Who says?" Still the smile. Her wand stirred the air in front of his chest in lazy circles.

"It's finished. I'm leaving." He used boredom to cover his disgust. The hypocrisy made him sick; yet another Gryffindor with the traits Slytherins were supposed to have.

"So you say."

"Finished," he repeated. "They acquitted me, Granger."

"I know." Her eyes narrowed a little. "I watched them do it."

He had seen her at the back of the room, by the door, watching as he gave his testimony.

"Then you know I'm innocent, and you're going to let me pass."

"They didn't know what they were talking about. You're not innocent."

He allowed himself a disbelieving laugh. "You think the decision made by the entire Wizengamot, after months of trial, is wrong?"

His case had been very high profile; covered by the media in meticulous detail, presided over by some of the brightest people in the wizarding world. The prosecutors called in surprise witness after surprise witness, and his case had remained airtight. He had not been a true Death Eater, the Wizengamot finally decided. He had been fighting for the Light. Hermione didn't really care either way, but she wasn't finished settling old scores. She didn't move her wand.

"Yes, I do think that."

"My god." He looked disgusted. "Let me past."

"You don't deserve it." She liked delaying him, liked how he kept his anger in check because of her wand, liked how she was in control after all these years. He looked back at her blankly, and her enjoyment lessened some.

"I've spent enough time in this building, Granger, I want to leave."

"No."

Pause.

"What do you want?" There was no fight, just boredom and disgust. The fun gone, she decided on one last torment before she let him go.

"You have to do something."

What would he rather die than do? A touch of girlish glee added venom to her following words.

"You have to kiss me."

His eyes widened. "No."

"Huh. No getting past then." Her wand didn't waver.

He turned away from her, stared at the grey wall for a moment. She grinned; she had known he wouldn't do it. Other plans for taunting sprung to mind, she tried to pick which next to use, still caught up with sweet revenge. She underestimated his need to get out of the building. He turned around.

"Fine."

"What?"

"Come here."

She hadn't expected this; didn't even want it. She shied back a little, trying to think.

"You're agreeing?"

He said nothing, gaze as blank as sheet metal.

"Ok, then; fine." She had no choice but to go along with it; to back down now was to lose control of the situation. She tried to make the best of it; simpering at him as she approached, laughing at the way he stiffened. When she got closer, though, she couldn't suppress her own defensive stiffening. His dislike was almost palatable, it created a poisonous cloud that surrounded her. His face was impassive, and when he kissed her, his kiss was full of disgust. It made a chill run through her; the pure distaste was not tempered even a little with lust.

He withdrew, and when she looked up, all boldness gone, his face was not impassive enough to cover the revulsion. She had let her wand fall when he came close, and now she brought it up again instinctively. His eyes flicked to her movement, but she didn't try to stop him.

After a moment he stepped past her, and left through the glass doors without another word.

She stood in the empty foyer, contemplating. The chill from his kiss. She had never gotten a feeling like that from Ron when he kissed her, or Harry. Draco and his disgust were the only things that produced it. The brief press of his mouth; not a kiss but a due paid to her; she had made him do it against his wishes. A recognition of her power.

&&&&&&

Later in their flat, Harry asked her what was wrong. She moved out of his arms, passing a weary hand over her face.

"Oh, 'Mione, I'm sorry. You covered _his_ trial today, didn't you?" She nodded, letting him mistake the reason for her dismay.

"God, I'm sorry. Of course you couldn't...of course you won't be feeling up to anything tonight. He'd put anyone off."

He followed her out to the kitchen. She flicked on the light and dispersed the blue shadows, dispelling any lingering romantic mood.

"Did you talk to him? You talked to him, didn't you." Harry's face creased with worry as he watched her fill a glass with milk. "Did he say something? He said something, didn't he?" She couldn't help a laugh at that, finally turning to him.

"No, almost nothing, in fact. I'm just tired Harry." She touched his cheek. "Please, don't worry."

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "Okay, I'm going back to bed then."

She watched him go, taking a sip of milk. She was tired enough, but that wasn't why she had stopped Harry, nor was it because seeing Draco had put her off. Harry's kisses were suddenly not the same. She couldn't respond to him; she had been turned off by their sweetness. They didn't give her a chill.

&&&

Neither, it turned out, did Ron's.

"Whoa, Herm, are you sure?" Ron glanced around furtively. "I mean, won't Harry mind?"

"Harry...Oh, Harry knows already."

"WHAT?"

"I...It's just an experiment. It's for my next article. I'll tell him about it – actually, just wait until it's published. Then I'll tell him."

"I thought you just said he-"

"It's going to be for our seven-month anniversary." He looked at her like she was crazy, but she had a plan now. "The article is about kisses, and I'm going to finish with how his are the best. It's my anniversary present."

"That's kind of a wierd-"

"But he'll like it." She said firmly, pulling his head down.

He kissed her, but there were no fireworks. And there was no chill. She was so disappointed she barely remembered to mutter, "and don't tell Harry; it's a surprise" before scurrying off.

She tried once more, because she was an orderly person and needed more evidence before she drew her conclusion. A floo address on the wall of a restroom lead her to a dirty alleyway, where various shady forms reclined against faded brick walls. She picked the best looking of them – she was not without self-respect – a stocky blond boy with sky-blue eyes.

"Kiss me."

He shrugged, leaned forwards, and performed his bidden duty with a greater amount of skill than she would have expected given the situation. However: no chill.

There was no doubt in her mind after that. Only one person could give it to her, and that was Draco Malfoy and his disgusted kiss. And he would never kiss her unless he was forced to.

&&&&


	2. Detecting

**Chapter Two: Detecting **

_As usual, homage to Rowling for creating everything except the plot. _

_Please review, everyone! It will make me very happy..._

&&&&&&

Draco shut his office door with a click, double-checked to make sure it was locked, and started down the street. It was a dim evening, threatening to rain. The cobblestones of the road were slick with the damp, and that is probably the only reason Hermione's plan worked. When her spell wrapped itself around his left ankle and jerked, he fell instead of just losing his balance. The shimmering red ropes dragged him into a nearby alley, where she stepped forwards, wand raised.

She underestimated him again. No wizard who had gone through the war would have failed to draw his wand in the few seconds on the road, and Draco Malfoy was no exception. Her wand wasn't the only one at the ready, and her surprise threw her off kilter for one crucial moment. His reaction was faster.

"Expellarimus!"

Her wand was snatched from her fingers. She couldn't let him see her, not unless she was in control. She whirled back, throwing her hands over her face.

"What the fuck-" He was still on the ground, squinting into the dim corner, wand poised, her wand in his other hand.

"Who are you? Come out." He started to get to his feet, and she charged forward, face averted, and rammed into him. His spell flew crooked but residual sparks from the force of his magic shot out of her wand and burned her robes. She scrabbled back, scratching at his face so his eyes flinched shut, and spun away down the alley.

He didn't try to catch her, but then, he didn't need to.

&&&&&&&

"Did you say you have the wand?"

When Draco had opened the door, he'd expected to see the cartoon version of a detective's office, complete with blinds and smoke. Instead, the room was sunlit and whitewashed, with a china-blue settee at one end and a prim wooden desk at the other. He sat on the settee now, elbows resting on spread knees, hands clasped.

"Yes."

If the red-haired woman at the desk had been surprised to see him come in, dark-suited and impassive, she hadn't shown it. More than anything, Ginny was surprised at how relaxed Draco's posture was. You'd think the man would be more on edge, considering.

"Can I see it?"

He handed her the wand.

"We can run some routine tests to find the owner..." Her eyes wandered over his face. "And he-"

"She. I'm fairly sure it was a woman."

"And she did that to you as well?"

He touched his scratches. "Yes."

"Are you _sure_ you don't know who it was? Not even a speculation?"

Just as he had done when she first asked, he considered, and then shook his head.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do, Mr. Malfoy."

He smiled a little; she didn't know at what.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley."

He rose, and left.

&&&&&&&

'Wear the blue robes, then."

"I can't."

Harry turned to look at her in exasperation. "Why not?"

"Oh...They got ruined."

"Well, just put something on. You'll look good regardless." He turned back to the dressing table to fix his tie. "Hurry up a little, though."

They were going to the Weasley house for dinner, an affair that Hermione always disliked. Arthur had gotten worse in his old age and it was hard to turn the conversation to anything non-muggle related. Sure enough, Arthur cornered her in the sitting room, eyes bright as he began: "I was going to ask you, Hermione, about this new muggle thing: 'PDA', because I thought on account of your growing up..."

He went on, and Hermione's thoughts wandered. She couldn't stay with Harry much longer. She was attached to him, she supposed, but his kisses had turned rancid. Harry loved her; he would do whatever she wanted; all she had to do was ask. He would voluntarily submit to her demands. She didn't need to force him to do anything.

&&&&&

She brushed against him as he stood in line to get his groceries. He moved away automatically, twisting back to see who he'd bumped into. Several emotions coalesced on his face and then cleared, like a storm passing.

"You."

Hermione smiled at him. "Me."

Draco turned back to the line, looking straight ahead. She brushed up against him, more purposefully. He cocked a shoulder to ward her off, stepping away; his hands were full of packages. Something occurred to him and he set the milk down so his wand hand was free.

"Draco, I just wanted to say-"

His head snapped around. "Don't call me Draco."

"Yes, but if we're going to-"

"There's no 'we', Granger. Are you buying something? There are more tills to your right."

"Oh, no, I'm not buying anything. I'm here to see you."

He went on guard. "What about?"

"Don't worry, I'm not here as a reporter. This is non-professional visit." That didn't exactly lower his guard.

"What, a social call in the middle of a grocery store?"

She waved a hand vaguely. "Well, I just happened to be in the area, and I saw you and thought, 'oh, I'll stop and say hello!'".

"To see...In the area?" He stared at her. "Are you stalking me?"

She decided to worry him a little: she opened her mouth and laughed far too loudly, then said: "We don't call it stalking, silly." She observed his resulting expression with satisfaction, then wondered if she could make him back up into the stack of baskets.

"You certainly get a lot of groceries, Draco. Do you want a hand with that...?" She reached for his packages and sure enough he stepped back, almost into the baskets, and had to rebalance.

"No! Go away." He glanced ahead to see how soon his turn would come, and she took the opportunity to touch against him again. He nearly dropped the rest of the groceries, disgust and disbelief on his face as he spun around.

"Jesus," he breathed. "What. Do. You. Want?"

She smiled a little at his frustration. How could she best wind him up? The truth?

"You," she answered.

If he had been less in control, his jaw would have dropped. It was one of the things she loved about him, and the situation. Being in control of someone who was in control of himself. It doubled her power.

"Well, I'm afraid," - was he smiling? -"That's not an option."

He was smiling. He had denied her outright. Hermione felt things slip a little, even as her pulse raced.

"Don't say that, Drakie." The look on his face was fabulous to behold. "You can't just lay down rules like that."

"Yes I can, it's my body," he said, feeling that things were out of hand: why was he having this conversation?

He looked around for his milk, a stone pillar of reality in a crazy situation. It was by her foot.

She followed his thought uncannily. "Get it," she said, nudging the bottle with her toe. "It's just here."

He would have to bend in front of her feet to reach it. Her pulse beat. He had denied her outright, and now he had to bend, kneel to her.

"No," he said. Disgusted. All his control snapped back in place like a cloak thrown round his shoulders. He turned and left the shop, without the milk. Without her.

Looking after him, she didn't know whether she'd won or lost.

&&&&&&

When he stalked into her office at the agreed-upon time, Ginny was surprised again. Draco was a mixture of iron-clad stillness and twitchy pacing, alternating between the two.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"No." The flat word made her withdraw, and made him reconsider. Was that all he could say these days? "Yes." He sat.

"Is there something wrong? You're really..."She trailed off, not wanting to offend him.

"No, nothing. I met – I encountered -" He froze, looked up at her.

"You're Ginny _Weasley_," he said.

Oh. My. God. "Yes..."

"Well, never mind." He relaxed, sitting back. "Do you have anything new on the case?"

"No, I'm sorry to say. The WI office is backlogged right now, and yours is a fairly low-priority case."

"You mean about the wand?"

"Yes. And it's the only lead I have right now, so..." She shrugged apologetically. Pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Unless you can think of anyone who might want to-"

"No."

"You know, I'm coming to the conclusion that this was a routine mugging attempt." She looked to him for a reaction. "Mr. Malfoy?" What the hell. Every time she said that, he smiled. The man was fathoms beyond her understanding.

"You may be right, _Miss _Weasley." He stood. She readied herself for his exit; a single man left a room and somehow it fell flat behind him.

He paused at the door. "Will you be at the dinner on Wednesday?"

She blinked at him. "Dinner?"

"Vets and Business Gala."

"Oh." The War Veteran and Business dinner, an annual event but important this year because of the potential donation to be made to the Vet society by Halwark & Postum. If everything went well at the dinner, the Vets - with Harry leading - could start building homes for the widows and children of dead soldiers.

"Yes, I'll be going; with Harry and Hermione. Are you...?" She tilted her head, confused.

"I'm a veteran as well, Miss Weasley." Icily.

"Of course," she muttered, looking away. Draco Malfoy had just been cleared by the Wizengamot; he had been fighting on their side after all, apparently. But every memory of the war had him behind Dark lines: to many people, and certainly to Harry, Malfoy would always be wearing a white skull mask.

When she looked up again, he had gone, taking something from the room the way he always did, and leaving it empty.

&&&&

The sound of tinkling crystal and polite laughter faded. Harry sat down, looking pleased. It had been a good speech, Draco knew. Powerful, moving, eloquent – he wondered how much of it had been written for him.

"Good, good, that was excellent, Potter. Well done." The man seated to Draco's left was Bulvoid Halwark, donation sponsor and very important guest. He was a little drunk and enjoying himself enormously. "You have a good heart, and at Halwark and Postum we like that."

Things were going well. The restauraunt was done in a style reminiscent of Trelawney's tower, with red plush on the walls and smudged golden lighting. The waiters sailed through in their immaculate black and white garb, bringing food that tasted as expensive as it was.

Hermione, seated across from him at Harry's side, hadn't said a single thing. Ginny was across and a couple of seats down. When he arrived, there had been a brief awkwardness between them: how to handle their situation, now that they weren't in her office? Was their relationship here professional or casual? He had settled on a medium, a smile with a nod, and she had returned it.

"Fortune cookie, sir?" A waiter bent over him.

"What?"

"Our fortune cookies, sir." The waiter smiled around the table, as though he were a magician unveiling a particularly good trick. "The Lamont tradition: each fortune message, tailored to delight. You follow the message after eating the cookie!"

Beside him, Halwark guffawed. "Just the thing! I'll have one, then. Hand it over."

He took his, opened it to the interest of the table, and read aloud: "Charm the napkin of the person next to you. Transfiguration charm of your choice." He rounded on Alicia Bennet, the pretty girl on his other side, and turned her napkin into a guinea pig. Chaos ensued as everyone demanded a cookie, and Draco had one thrust into his hands. He examined the sweet hard biscuit without interest.

"Open up!" Halwark gleamed at him, sweaty and full of good humour.

Draco looked down at his cookie, and snapped the brown crust with a certain amount of satisfaction. He pulled the curled parchment from the middle. In the moment that followed there happened to be a lull in conversation, so Halwark's words boomed across the table.

"Well? Read it to us, go on!"

Everyone looked at Draco. He read the words with a feeling of disbelief; his fingers twisted away from the paper and he looked up. Hermione's face was triumphant, greedy.

&&

Now she really was in control; he couldn't make a scene here, and to baulk about a simple kiss would be rude. Every turn had him cornered, and any attempt on his part to get out of it would only increase her pleasure. Never in a thousand years would she get this feeling with Harry.

As Draco rose from his chair. She had won, again. A mutter ran around the table, mostly amiable, with a small protest from Harry. It was a long distance around the table, and there was an expectant silence by the time he reached her.

He stood for a moment, and she saw her death slide across his face. She froze, excited at his defiance but scared despite herself. Then in a folding of cloth he bent, meeting her upturned face, to kiss her. The shock of his disgust flamed through her, fusing her spine together, hatred locking her in place. Many times stronger than at the Wizengamot, it was electrifying, fizzling down her nerves until it grounded in her feet and dispersed through the carpet. The chill crept through at last; his unmitigated dislike and revulsion emanating from him as he moved back. Again, his face was open for a moment after kissing her, and the chill was written on it. She stared, tingles still shooting haphazardly across her skin. A little smile on her face.

&&&&&&

Ginny watched him kiss her; a short, impersonal brush of the lips. A polite, distanced kiss; befitting the circumstances. And yet, Hermione was flushed when he drew away two seconds later. Ginny had not seen his face when he paused in front of her, but on the return to his seat it was blank, the calm after a storm. She switched her eyes back to Hermione again, and frowned, missing something.


	3. But love is blind

_Ack! Sorry folks; major cock-up with me repeating chapters! It was quickly spotted by you all (Gosh, tough crowd...) and here's the fixer-up. Enjoy the proper version of chapter three, the longest yet._

_Disclaimer: Same as last chapter._

&&&&&&&

"Harry?"

"Mmmm?" He'd almost been asleep, but rolled over anyway.

"Tell me you don't want to kiss me."

He blinked away exhaustion, frowning. "What?"

"Just say it. 'I don't want to kiss you, Hermione. I _won't_ kiss you.'"

Harry propped himself up on an elbow. She looked up at him and mouthed, 'say it'.

"I don't want to kiss you Hermione." All in one breath, as though it were a joke.

"No! Say it like you mean it. 'I _will not kiss you,_ Hermione.'"

"I will not kiss you, Hermione." Confusion added reality to his voice, and it came out sufficiently angry. She nodded.

"Okay, now kiss me."

"But-"

"Just do it!"

He kissed her, trying to reassure himself, taking his time. She pulled away. It wasn't working.

"I'll ask you this time, and you say 'no.'"

He shook his head helplessly.

"You have to say it. Kiss me." He leaned forwards, obedient.

"No, Harry! You just have to say 'no' back to me. Hard, like you mean it."

He stared at her. Harry was a very intelligent man, but love is blind.

"Okay."

"Kiss me."

"No."

"More. Like you mean it." She sat up, earnest, trying to communicate her idea to him. "Like you really hate me. As if the idea of kissing me makes you disgusted."

If Harry had refused to co-operate at that moment, he would have gained her interest. Instead he said, "Fine," in a resigned voice.

"Kiss me."

"NO." She started to laugh. He grinned back at her, happy this thing of hers was over. He tried to kiss her again, since he was awake anyway. She stopped laughing.

"Thanks, Harry." Rolling over, back to him.

"What? Hermione-"

"Goodnight."

&&&&&

Ron was only too pleased to join in a conversation about Hermione's strange behaviour. He confessed his kiss to Ginny, looking both stricken and excited.

"I still haven't told Harry. But their anniversary..."

"Was three days ago." She finished for him. "Okay...Ron, still don't tell Harry for a bit yet."

He looked at her, miserable in deceit. She disliked Hermione for a moment, for stirring up all the old feeling in her brother, that should have been let to die away when they broke up.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said. "I'll get it sorted out."

He didn't look convinced.

&&&&&&&

"I'm sure you're tired of hearing this question," Ginny said from behind her desk, 'but is there anyone you can think of, at all, who could possibly be connected to the attempted assault?'

"To _the_ assault; not attempted," said Draco, whose scratches had taken three applications of Heal-It cream to vanish.

"But is there anyone?" She was not to be deviated.

He frowned, rocking back into the settee, and then standing on an impulse and beginning to pace around the room. When he came to a stop, he was in front of her desk.

"Maybe one," he said.

"Hermione Granger," She said for him.

His eyes flicked to find hers, surprised. "How did you know?"

"When I saw the kiss, at the restaurant," She watched his reaction, saw the disgust. He watched her watching him, struggled to find the words to express what Hermione had been doing to him, the back story to that kiss, and failed completely.

He nodded, telling her to go on, and retreated to the settee.

"It was just such a weird reaction, on her part. And afterwards, in the car, when Harry mentioned the cookies she laughed and laughed." Ginny came round to the front of the desk, in an unconscious attempt to make things less formal. Draco's case had come closer to home in the last few days.

"Yes?"

"And then I remembered a conversation I'd had with Harry; he was worried because-" she paused. The reasons for Harry's worry were too personal to tell Draco, so she skipped around it. "He was worried about her. He said she'd been acting strangely, and _he_ traced the reason back to her last reporting assignment."

"Which was?" Draco sat forward, elbows on knees, intent. Encouraged by his attendance, she continued.

"Your trial. At the Wizengamot."

"Oh." He sat back again, not knowing how much she already knew and protecting himself with impassiveness.

"Harry thought you had talked there." She rubbed her hands together. "So I used my privileges to view the building's security spells. I saw her stopping you at the exit, and everything else. There's no sound on the spells, but I could guess what happened."

"Jesus." He got up, and paced the room again, making it small. She leaned against the desk.

"And then, I went to Ron."

"Weasley?"

"Yes, my brother. He had a funny story to tell me too; the long and short of which is that Hermione got him to kiss her as a 'test'."

He turned towards her with an incredulous look, and she felt herself matching it. She sounded like she knew what was going on, but she was just as confused as he was.

He ran a hand through his hair, a curiously boyish gesture. "She sounds like she's insane," he said.

The room filled with silence. He looked at her, and she looked at the floor. He lowered his hand slowly, unbelievingly. "She _is_ insane."

"I'm not for certain." It was her turn to pace, just a few steps in front of him, forward and back. She was expressing what had hitherto been a notion, and now was filling her mind as a certainty. "Something happened to her, about four years ago. That was shortly after the War, you know-"

"I know the dates of the War." She couldn't tell from his face whether he was affronted, and after a pause in which he didn't say anything, she went on with her story.

"It was a breakdown; delayed stress from the War. She went into a coma. Harry-" She paused, remembering. "I've never seen him so distraught. He looked after her so fiercely; over those few days I realized he was in love with her." She smiled a little. "When Hermione finally woke up, she was fine. Harry never had her checked to make sure the coma hadn't affected her brain, because he thought it would be too upsetting. And he was probably right; she lives on her mind, you know; it's like her weapon. If she thought it was damaged she wouldn't know what to rely on." He took all this in with a slight frown, but nodded when she looked over, to say he was listening.

"After a while Hermione got better; got stronger, returned to her normal self. She was happy again, and so was Harry. There was no sign of anything wrong, so I let it be."

"Until now."

"Yes. Until you." She rested against the desk, tapping a finger absently. "I don't know what it was, but something triggered. Maybe she was actually mad all these years and we never noticed. She still might not be mad, mind you..."

"...But it's unlikely."

"Right. Draco-" she surprised them both with his first name. But then she continued brazenly, because this had turned away from a routine case and had come so much closer to home that business pretences were stupid.

"I'm going to have to ask you a favour. And I know-"

Shit, shit, she was going too fast. His eyebrows had gone up at her using his name and now she was about to impart information that could place Harry in his hands, and after all that he owed her nothing; not a thing.

She turned back to the desk, sat down behind it; a vague grasp at safety. He watched her, in control of himself now and back on the settee.

"I know you don't have any reason to agree with me after everything Hermione's done, but this has gotten tied in to people I know, and everything has gotten more confusing."

She looked across at him despairingly, then realized she hadn't given him enough information yet because his face was still uncomprehending. She gave up, came round the desk, and got ready to plead with him if that's what it took. "The thing is, the results from the wand ID were here this morning when I got in."

He straightened a little. "Yes?"

"And the wand of your attacker belongs to Hermione Granger." There, now he knew, and Harry's well-being sat in the balance. All because her sense of professional duty had forbade her from withholding the information that he was legally entitled to know. He didn't seem to appreciate the power she had given him; he just sat.

"Hermione Granger?"

"Yes." The terror in her face made him look for deeper meaning. Finally he said, thinking aloud: "You get into trouble for assaulting someone."

Now he was understanding the legal implications, and she collapsed a little. Regardless of the actual motive, Hermione's attack was going to look like a hate crime against a man whose innocence had just been proven to the whole world. That combined with the extremely high profiles of the people involved would turn it into a media extravaganza: merciless. It would be huge, and right in the middle of it would be Harry, because he would never let Hermione go alone. He loved her, and the shock of hearing that she was likely mad and definitely obsessed - with another man - would tear him up. That and the media attention, which he had managed to avoid for so long, and the implications and the scandal; just when everything was finally righting in his world this had to come along and make it wrong again.

She watched Draco following her thoughts, step by step, perched on the blue settee. Suddenly the couch seemed too close, the room too small, and when he stood up he filled her whole vision.

She stood as well, feeling sad and weak and stupid, because it would all be her fault in the end.

"And your favour?"

"Please..." She cleared her throat. "Don't say anything. You don't have to bring it to trial. You could let it be."

He was already standing, now his presence filled the room like a million people, making her small.

"I don't think that would help anything at all, Ginny."

The return of her name startled her. His presence disappeared, leaving a man in dark blue robes who looked tired and beautiful. Draco paced a few steps, rubbing his hands over his face.

"You don't understand. I spent three months in a courtroom, in front of the entire Wizengamot. I don't have any desire to go back to court again. If this can be settled without legal measures, that's what I want to do."

Her heart flipped a couple of times, waiting for the '...but'.

"But I don't think we can just let it be. Potter should know, at least."

"No, please. He can't." She took a few steps forward. "It'll ruin him, Draco. Harry won't survive this; he loves her to pieces. He can't find, after all these years, that not only is she obsessed with another man, but it's with _you_, of all people."

He wondered tiredly whether he should take umbrage at that, but let it go as she went on: "We can't let Harry be hurt. Please."

He looked at her curiously. "It's Potter you're worried about."

"Harry, yes."

"'Harry,'" he echoed. It sounded foreign on his tongue.

"I have to take care of him," she said. Immediately, she knew she'd said the wrong thing.

"Take care of...? You never got over him, Weasley? After all these years?" Back to last names, back to the schoolyard; something had changed. He looked down at her with the familiar cruel gleam in his eye, and she began to be scared again.

"You don't understand," she said, wondering where she'd gone wrong.

"No, I expect I don't. But what I do know is that it would be stupid not to tell him." The gleam was gone. He was an adult, after all. "This is just common sense, Weas- Gin-" He floundered with her name for a moment before abandoning it. "Can't you see? First of all – and I'm thinking about _Hermione_ here for a change – she's going to keep after me if we don't do anything. All personal considerations aside, she needs professional help. We can't give that to her unless someone is told, and that someone happens to be Potter, because he's _in love_ with her." She wondered why he'd stressed the words 'in love', but was too ashamed of herself to consider properly.

"Ok, you're right," she said, and was pleased to hear her voice come out strongly. "I wasn't thinking about her well-being at all. But we can make this work out, I know it. Isn't there some way – so that Harry won't -"

"No." Their eyes met, and he won. She looked away.

"You're right." She said, barely above a whisper. "Oh, god."

"Ginny," She looked up at him dully. "I think you're underestimating Potter's strength. He got through the War; his breaking point is higher than this. Think, please." He pulled away to pace again, his impatience filling the room. "This will be much worse for him if it's not stopped immediately. You know, at least, that I'm not going to prosecute. But what about the next person Granger gloms onto?"

"There might not be a next person."

"Oh, Ginny. Stop being so obtuse. You did all that brilliant detective work to come to this point, and now you're shutting your brain off." He came to a stop in front of her. "There will be a next person, because she's crazy. And Potter's going to figure that out eventually, and what are you going to do? Say, 'I knew a long time ago but I didn't tell you'? For all you know, it could be a time-pertinent madness that can be cured if we get help soon enough."

He read her reaction on her face.

"No; you weren't thinking of cures, were you."

"I'll go and tell him tomorrow." She said, tired, awed by how a single case had done so much to disturb her life. "First thing in the morning."

"Good. That'll be fine."

"It'll work out. Harry won't die." More to herself than him.

The evening was creeping in. Silence settled in the room; she realized how dark it had gotten and reached for the lamp.

"Potter will have you. He'll be fine." Her hand stalled on the lamp as she looked over at him. She couldn't read his expression in the shadows, and when she flicked the light on, his face was blank.

&&&&&&

Review! Review! I deserve it now I have the proper chapter up, yes?


	4. Minding Harry

This is it: the shortest and possibly final chapter! _Disclaimer: It's not mine, it's hers._

_Mr Malfoy_

In the end, they were both right: Harry did take the news badly, but it didn't 'ruin him', as Ginny had feared. When he finally raised his head from his hands, the first thing he said was, "Why'd you have to bring _him_, Gin?"

Ginny looked over at Draco before answering. They had decided to tell Harry everything, including who Hermione was obsessed with, because she might give it away later anyway.

"Because he's involved. And because I wasn't sure you'd believe just me."

Harry was too intelligent to deny the intelligence of her reasoning. It had taken a confirmation floo from Ron, with his story, to even convince him. Ginny didn't blame him: she had spent the time after her initial discovery in a mild state of shock. It had taken a final meeting with Hermione, and the mention of Draco, to convince her of the insanity of the other woman.

"Well, get him out of here. This is a family affair now."

Ginny exchanged glances with Draco, or rather, bounced her glance off his impassive gaze.

"Okay," She said. "I'll be back in a moment. And Ron's on his way; he's going to get Hermione from the office."

Out on the lawn, she started to apologize for Harry's rudeness. "It's just this is such a shock. I mean-"

"Yes, you explained all that last night."

"Okay." She stood and watched him take out his wand, prepare for apparition.

"Draco, I should thank you. For everything; for not going to trial, for coming today, for being so sensible last night. I want to give you this case free of charge."

Again, she had said the wrong thing somehow.

"No. I'll pay you your wages, like we agreed." She stared into his uncommunicative face, trying to solve him. And failing.

"Go and look after Potter," he said. "He'll be fine."

Except...

"Draco," she said, in a surge of realization. "We _all _look after Harry. All of us, who went through the war with him. Not just me. Ron. Dean. Everyone. We all take care of him together, as best we can. Not just me."

If he had not been so controlled, he would have smiled. But his presence, that could fill her office and leave it empty when he left, let off a subtle wave of relief. All he said was: "oh."

There was a pop from the house, and enraged shrieks filled the air. Ron had arrived with Hermione, and apparently he'd been filling her in.

"I should go," she said.

"Yes."

He watched her all the way back to the house.

**Fin**

&&&&&&&&&

I'm trying to decide whether to leave it there or continue; I feel it could go either way. Anyhow: review!


End file.
